The Witch's Candelabra

Chapter 13 - Mysteries Unraveled

Damian:

Lying there beside Rosalie in the quiet aftermath of our intimacy, I found the stillness of the room unsettling. It was as if the walls themselves were privy to my inner turmoil, the secrets I kept buried. The subject of Braids, that enigmatic and elusive girl, inevitably wormed its way into our conversation.

"There's just something about her that gets under my skin," I said, the annoyance evident in my tone. I could feel my hands clenching unconsciously at the mere mention of her name.

Rosalie shifted slightly, her expression a blend of inquisitiveness and concern. Her eyes, always so perceptive, seemed to search mine for an unspoken truth. "She does seem quite the enigma," she mused, her voice tinged with a hint of fascination. "There's an air of mystery about her that's... intriguing."

I could feel the tension in the air thicken as we delved deeper into the topic. Rosalie's intuitive gaze never wavered, and her next question pierced right through my defenses. "Why are you so wrapped up in her affairs, Damian? What's really at stake here?"

Her inquiry hit me like a physical blow, unleashing a floodgate of pent-up emotions. I sat up abruptly, the bed sheets crumpling beneath me. "It's the candelabra she possesses," I blurted out, the words laced with a mix of anger and desperation. "I need it back, Rosalie. I just... It's important."

I rose from the bed and began pacing the room, each step echoing the chaos in my mind. The walls seemed to close in on me, making the room feel smaller, more confining. My thoughts were a whirlwind, centered on the candelabra and its mysterious connection to Braids. The more I dwelled on it, the more consumed I became by the need to reclaim it.

Rosalie watched me pace, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern. "Damian," she began, her voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. "You're letting this consume you. It's just an object."

But to me, it wasn't just an object. It was a symbol of something larger, a piece of a puzzle I was desperately trying to solve. And at the heart of that puzzle was Braids, a girl who defied explanation and who had unwittingly become the focal point of my obsession. As I continued to pace, the frustration and confusion swirling within me, I knew that I had to find a way to resolve this, to understand the connection between Braids, the candelabra, and the unsettling sense of destiny that hung over it all.

Seeking solace and clarity, I decided a carriage ride through the streets would do me good. The cool air and rhythmic clatter of horse hooves against the cobblestones always had a way of calming my restless thoughts. As I stepped outside, the sight of a black dog sitting just off the stoop caught my attention. It watched me intently with piercing, almost human-like eyes.

As I observed, the dog casually strolled into the dark alley next to my house. There, in the shadows, was Braids. The dog approached her and, in an almost surreal exchange, handed her a small bird bone. I watched, hidden by the corner of the building, as her hand glowed with an eerie orange hue upon touching the bone. It was as if she was momentarily granted a vision, seeing through the dog's eyes, witnessing my departure from the house. The scene was bizarre, like something out of a fantastical tale.

After a moment, Braids handed the bone back to the dog, which promptly scampered away, disappearing into the labyrinth of alleyways. I stood there for a moment longer, trying to make sense of what I had just witnessed. Shaking my head, I turned and made my way to the waiting carriage, the image of Braids and the dog etched in my mind.

Meanwhile, back in my bedroom, Rosalie's patience seemed to have worn thin. She sat by the window, her annoyance palpable. It was then that Braids, seizing the moment, worked her peculiar magic. Outside the window, a pale-headed rosella appeared, its vibrant plumage a stark contrast against the urban backdrop. The bird was not what it seemed, though; it was an insect transformed into a captivating bird.

Rosalie watched, mesmerized as the bird fluttered around the room. It was a beautiful, almost hypnotic display, capturing her full attention. Then, in a shocking turn, the bird burst into flames, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Rosalie, spurred by curiosity and concern, hastily dressed and rushed outside, eager to find the mysterious bird.

Unbeknownst to her, Braids was orchestrating these events, a master of manipulation and magic. Rosalie, completely unaware of the true nature of what she had witnessed, was now unwittingly caught in Braids' web of enchantment. As I rode through the streets, lost in my thoughts, I was oblivious to the intricate game Braids was playing, a game that was slowly entangling all of us in its complex weave.

***

Braids:

Disguised as an old man, I stood outside, watching as Rosalie emerged from the house, her eyes scanning the surroundings. The spell I had cast earlier, transforming an insect into a mesmerizing pale-headed rosella, had worked perfectly. Now, it was time to gauge its effect.

As Rosalie approached, her gaze still fixed on the sky where the bird had vanished, she seemed both bewildered and captivated. "Did you see a pretty bird?" she asked me, her voice tinged with a mix of wonder and confusion.

I nodded slowly, my voice altered to match my disguise. "Yes, a beautiful one. Flew right by here," I said, feigning the frailty of an old man. This was the perfect opportunity to learn more about Rosalie without revealing my true identity.

As our conversation continued, I subtly reached out and touched her shoulder, all the while casting a spell with my other hand, which remained hidden and cloaked in invisible flames. The spell was designed to turn the local animals against her subtly. It was a small nudge, but in the world of magic, even the slightest push could set a cascade of events into motion.

That night, as I lay in bed, I could feel the spell taking effect. Animals in the area, influenced by my enchantment, began to display unusual aggression towards Rosalie. Over the course of the week, the relentless harassment by the fauna grew. Birds squawked at her angrily, cats hissed in her presence, and dogs barked incessantly whenever she passed by. It was a gentle yet constant pressure, designed to unsettle and drive her away.

And it worked. Rosalie, unable to cope with the inexplicable hostility of the animals, decided to leave the city and return to France. The news of her departure reached me, and with it, a sense of satisfaction mixed with a twinge of regret. I had effectively removed her from the equation, but the act left a sour taste in my mouth.

Now, with Rosalie out of the way, I knew Damian's frustration would peak. He would be desperate to reclaim what he believed to be his, to put an end to my interference. But what he didn't realize was that this was no longer just a game of retrieval for him; it had become a personal vendetta for me as well. I had to be ready, for I knew he would come for the spellbook and me. The stakes had been raised, and I had to prepare for what was to come. This battle of wills and magic was about to escalate, and I needed to be one step ahead.